


Santa Paws

by paintedrecs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Holidays, M/M, POV Stiles, Puppies, Santa Derek Hale, Single Parent Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 03:09:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5523191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paintedrecs/pseuds/paintedrecs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Really, Stiles should have known better than to send his daughter off to the mall, right before Christmas, with Scott Enabler Extraordinaire McCall. </p><p>So when she entered the house with an open-mouthed, gap-toothed smile a mile wide and a fluffy puppy in her arms, it was Scott who received the brunt of his glare. And Derek Hale, dressed as the mall's Santa, who had to face the consequences of his puppy-gifting actions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Santa Paws

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dexterous_Sinistrous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dexterous_Sinistrous/gifts).



> This was written for dexterous-sinistrous for Sterek Secret Santa and inspired by conversations with some lovely friends.
> 
> Comments and kudos keep me warm and fuzzy and motivated to keep on writing!

Really, Stiles should have known better than to send his daughter off to the mall, right before Christmas, with Scott Enabler Extraordinaire McCall. 

Scott had been his best friend since they’d bonded over the fascinating taste/texture combination of paste and crayons, and the less-fascinating results of puking up the mixture after an invigorating round on the swings. They’d essentially grown up together: brothers in every sense of the word, other than that pesky genetic one. 

What most people didn’t realize about their friendship, though, was that a good percentage of the incidents that had sent them to the principal’s office - or the Sheriff’s station - throughout their teenage years had, in fact, _not_ always been instigated by Stiles. Granted, the impetus behind Stiles’s ideas usually involved poking at boundaries, defying authority, and knowing full well what the consequences would be if they got caught, while Scott’s heavily optimistic nature meant he simply blundered into situations with the expectation that everything would turn out the way he wanted. 

The problem was, they generally got into the same amount of trouble, regardless of whose plan it had been to begin with. And somehow Stiles always ended up with the short end of the stick.

“It’s because Scott _apologizes_ ,” Stiles’s dad had, a decade earlier, sighed in response to Stiles’s loud protestations about being grounded during Lydia’s epic eighteenth birthday party, which _Scott_ was still allowed to attend. When Stiles had attempted to launch into another objection - _Scott_ had been the one to suggest dying the pool red before the swim meet, in honor of their school colors - his dad had raised a tired hand. “And he helped the janitor scrub it clean. While you sat back and explained, in detail, why it was so funny that it gave Jackson hives. Besides, Scott’s not my kid; you are. And you’re not going to that party.”

Stiles had ruined his own carefully crafted righteous indignation by snickering. They hadn’t really meant it as a prank when they’d started. But, considering Stiles’s glee at the outcome, it’d been difficult to argue they hadn’t _known_ Jackson was allergic to food coloring. Anyway, Stiles had pointed out, Jackson was the idiot who dove into the pool early in the morning, without even turning on the lights or bothering to glance at the water. Was it their fault he was that reckless about his own well-being?

Yes, his dad had said, threatening to handcuff him to his desk if he tried to sneak out of the house. Again.

At the time, it’d been hard for Stiles to imagine ever being on the other side of the equation - putting his foot down and sticking to his decision, despite the wobbling lips and tear-filled eyes of a kid who hadn’t _meant_ to do anything wrong. The reality was, he’d been damn lucky. To everyone’s relief, and certainly his own, Claudia had inherited his looks - snub nose, brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles that he appreciated far more than his own moles - but had been graced with a much steadier personality. As “Grandpa John” made sure to mention fairly often, she was far more sedate and well-behaved than her father, even after he’d mostly outgrown his difficult teenage years. Stiles always made an exasperated face in response, but he had to admit it was true. He didn’t mind agreeing with his dad that he’d somehow managed to produce the most perfect child in the universe. 

So when she entered the house with an open-mouthed, gap-toothed smile a mile wide and a fluffy puppy in her arms, it was Scott who received the brunt of his glare. 

Scott’s sunny grin dimmed a bit, and he hung back in the doorway, beginning to look slightly sheepish. Stiles ramped up the fury and disbelief in his eyes, trying to nonverbally express exactly How Uncool this entire situation was, and Scott shrugged apologetically.

“It was love at first sight,” he explained, as though saying no to Claudia’s pleadings for a puppy was completely unfathomable. Which was probably fair, but Stiles had been managing it for eight years, and he didn’t need his best friend overturning his efforts.

“I’ll deal with you later,” Stiles promised, before kneeling down to let Claudia run into his arms, puppy and all. She was chattering with such excitement that it took him some time to pick out the pertinent elements of the story.

“The mall santa gave you a puppy?” he asked, and Claudia nodded happily.

“Isn’t she wonderful?” She hefted the puppy higher in her arms so she could smoosh their cheeks together, two sets of big brown eyes gazing at him in appeal. “Santa said she was his favorite, even. He picked her out for me, ‘specially.” 

“Did he.” Stiles frowned over at Scott, who shrugged again. “And why was Santa handing out puppies?”

“For Santa Paws,” she said, kissing the puppy on its nose and setting it down on the floor. It stood in place for a moment, then shook itself, its ears flopping, and began sniffing around the furniture. Probably looking for a place to pee, Stiles thought darkly, but he let it go for the time being. Their rugs had seen worse. 

“What’s Santa Paws?”

She scrunched her forehead, thinking about it. “Puppies need homes,” she finally said, halfway under the table in pursuit of the one exploring their living room. “And kids need puppies. So Santa matches us up for Christmas. He said it was his job to make sure we’d be happy together.”

“Mm, I see. C’mere for a minute, okay Clauds?”

“Oh,” she said sadly, picking up on the tone that meant they were about to Have A Serious Conversation. She stroked gently over the puppy’s furry back before dragging her feet over to Stiles. “Can’t we keep her, papa? Uncle Scott and Santa both said it’d be okay.”

“I know they did, honey, but it wasn’t their decision to make. Both of them should have known better.”

Scott scratched awkwardly at his neck and pretended to examine a spot on the wallpaper. 

Claudia sniffled wetly and said in a small voice, “But I love her.”

Which was _exactly_ why it wasn’t okay to send a kid home with a high-maintenance pet without consulting her dad. It was difficult enough being a single parent; now Stiles had to be the villain who snatched his baby’s dream gift out of her arms during Christmas. He hated that he’d been put in this position, but he was doing his best to keep a level head about it. He scrubbed his hands roughly through his hair and breathed deeply.

“Okay, I need to go talk to Santa. Uncle Scott will-” But when he looked up, Scott was already edging out the door.

“Gotta go home,” he said. “I’d promised to make dinner tonight, and I still need to grab some groceries.”

“Which you could have done while you were babysitting my daughter, instead of _bringing me a puppy_!” Stiles yelled after him as he escaped.

Claudia had gone back to the puppy while his back was turned; she was sitting on the floor, quiet tears streaming down her face, petting it with both hands as it tumbled into her lap on unsteady paws and mouthed at her clothes. 

“Fucking hell,” Stiles muttered under his breath, then shot a glance at her to make sure she hadn’t heard him. His daughter seeing him yelling at Santa would be _just_ the thing to complete this shitfest of a day, but what could he do? He had to take her with him now. And he had to get the puppy back to the mall as quickly as possible, so the world’s most irresponsible Santa could pawn it off on another unsuspecting family.

What a day this was shaping up to be.

***

They got to the mall as the Santa Paws line was closing up. Stiles hadn’t planned that out, but he was relieved; it was certainly better than chewing Santa out in front of a crowd of children. Claudia tearfully pointed at a flash of red velvet disappearing behind a barrier, and pressed one last kiss into the puppy’s fur as she handed it over. “It’s okay, papa,” she said bravely, her voice shaking but her chin held high. “I know you’re only doing what you think is best.”

Stiles’s determination wavered for a moment. But...shots and housebreaking and walks and obedience school and figuring out what to do with the thing while he was at work and Claudia was at school...it didn’t make _sense_ , not at this point in their lives. He’d explained this to her many times over the years, and she’d understood, appreciating the stuffed animals he’d given her as stand-ins for the real thing. But when _Santa_ gives you a puppy, of course it trumps everything your dad’s told you. 

His resolution settled back into place, firmer than ever. 

“Hey! Hey you, elf lady!” He leaned over the partition and shifted the puppy to his left hand so he could wave at a blonde elf. 

“That’s Erica,” Claudia said, clinging to his pants leg. “She was helping Santa earlier. She’s nice, I like her.”

Elf Erica clacked over on her color-coordinated stilettos and smiled down at Claudia. “Back already?” she asked. “I’m afraid we’ve closed up for the day, but you can see Santa again tomorrow, if you want.”

“We’re here to return my present,” Claudia explained, her brown eyes huge and sad, and the friendly expression on Erica’s face disappeared. 

“I need to talk to Santa,” Stiles said, trying not to shiver at the venom in Erica’s expression. “Would it be okay if - you do mind watching her for a few minutes while I do? I promise I’ll be quick. In and out.”

“And apparently without a puppy on the way back,” Erica growled, looking at him like he was single-handedly destroying Christmas for everyone. “Fine. He’s just through that curtain, but you’d better make it fast.”

Stiles hurried in the direction Erica had indicated. Behind him, he could hear Erica asking Claudia questions to keep her attention fixed on her, rather than on the fact that Stiles was dumping off an unwanted - even if appealingly warm and fuzzy - gift. 

Santa was sitting on a low bench, tugging off his polished boots to reveal woolen socks that looked like they’d been clumsily hand-knitted. He looked up when Stiles entered, his dark eyebrows lifting in surprise. Stiles shoved the puppy at him and barrelled into an explanation before he had a chance to speak.

“I’m returning this,” he said, and Santa dropped his boot and caught the puppy, which grunted a little at the new pair of hands braced around its fat belly, but otherwise didn’t make a sound. If _Stiles_ had been a puppy, he’d have been whimpering and attempting to wiggle free, or biting these people who kept passing him around. He had to admit this one seemed like a pretty good dog, all things considered, but - he shook his head sternly. A good dog for someone else. This dog was _not_ going to become Puppy Stilinski. No matter how much it stared at him, blinking with golden lashes, its soft paws sadly dangling as Santa lifted it into the air.

“Returning?” Santa asked, his voice sounding mellower and younger than Stiles had expected. They were probably about the same age - Santa was in his mid-thirties, maybe, judging by the hints of laugh-lines at the corners of his unexpectedly pretty eyes, and by the dark eyebrows that in no way matched his flowing white beard. It made Stiles feel a little better; at least he wouldn't be telling off a senior citizen. This guy could take it.

“Returning,” he confirmed, his jaw tightening in annoyance. “I don't know what kind of scam you're running here, buddy, but you can’t just hand dogs off to children all willy-nilly. Isn’t there paperwork or something you should be having their parents sign? In fact,” he said, warming up to the subject, “I’m not even sure what you’re doing here is legal. Do you have the right kind of permit for this?”

“Yes,” Santa said, turning the puppy around so he could gaze into its eyes. “I worked it out with the Sheriff. And the parents do sign off on the puppies before they leave; this one went to little Claudia, right? Her dad was completely on board.”

“ _I’m_ her dad,” Stiles gritted out.

Santa looked at him, startled. “Oh - her other dad, then. I’m sorry if he didn’t check with you first, but we don’t ask a lot of questions once an adult agrees to all the adoption conditions. We wouldn’t have sent this little lady home with Claudia on her own, of course.”

“She doesn’t have two dads. She has one parent. It’s me. She also has an Uncle Scott, whose presents this year are being returned as soon as I can unwrap them and make it to the store.”

“Oh no,” Santa said, sounding satisfyingly dismayed. Before Stiles could work himself into another rant, though, Santa pushed his fake beard down, letting it drop around his throat so he could nuzzle gently at the puppy’s silky ears. The puppy licked at his nose, and Santa smiled - a bright, absolutely devastating smile that made dimples pop into his cheeks. _Bearded_ cheeks, still, but dark and neatly trimmed, with stunningly beautiful cheekbones that were visible now that the Santa disguise had fallen away. Stiles bit at his lip before he could think too much about his sudden urge to rub _his_ face against that beard.

“What’s your name?” Stiles croaked out.

“Derek,” Santa said, tucking the puppy close to his chest with one arm and extending his other hand to shake Stiles’s. “I’m Derek Hale; I run the animal shelter.”

“Hale,” Stiles mused. “I know your sister, don’t I? Cora.” 

Derek nodded. “My younger sister. She and our older sister Laura run the pet lodge - you’ve probably driven past it? They handle doggie daycare and grooming and boarding services. I sometimes help out when they’re overbooked.”

“You Hales are some pet lovers, huh?” He could feel his anger seeping away. He absently batted at it in the back of his mind in an attempt to bring it to the forefront again, but under the circumstances, it was hard to maintain his indignation.

“It runs in the family, I guess.” Derek grinned as the puppy gnawed gently at his chin. “My priority’s always been on making sure the unwanted ones are able to find a home. We’re a no-kill facility, but it gets pretty crowded, and holidays are a good time to bring visibility to the adoptable animals.”

“That’s smart,” he grudgingly admitted. “I can see why my dad would’ve supported you on this idea.” 

“Your dad?” Derek lifted his eyebrows in question.

“Sheriff Stilinski. I’m Stiles. His no-good son.”

“Oh, I’ve heard of you,” Derek said, grinning at him. “He brings the K-9s in for grooming. He likes hanging around and telling stories when he’s got the time to spare.”

“Great. Of course he does. Well - don’t believe everything he says. He may be a man of the law, but that doesn’t exempt him from tall tales. And uh. Exaggerations. I’ve probably only done half of the things he says.”

“You shouldn’t be worried about what he tells people. He’s proud of you, and it shows,” Derek said. He tugged off the Santa cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair, which had been slightly flattened over the course of the day. The puppy jostled against his chest, and he rubbed his chin against its fuzzy head in mute apology. 

Stiles coughed and unsuccessfully tried to tear his eyes away. Santas weren’t supposed to be drop-dead gorgeous. It went against the rules of the universe or something. “So the adoptions - they’ve been going well?”

“Yeah, we’ve had a good run this week, with older dogs as well as the puppies. This girl was one of the last to go today. I’m sorry she didn’t work out. She was the best puppy in the batch, actually; I’d been thinking about taking her home myself, so I hadn’t made her available until I saw your daughter bonding with her.”

Stiles grimaced. “You’re making me feel like a serious grinch here.”

“No, you’re right, I should’ve handled the screening more carefully. I usually _do_ ask a few more questions, or send them over to my elves for that part, but they were both so enthusiastic and genuine, and I was honestly getting a bit overwhelmed. It’s been a long day. A long week, really. Sorry, do you mind? I’m overheating in this getup.” He handed the puppy back to Stiles and unbuttoned his red jacket, peeling away the padding that gave him the jolly, cozy Santa look. He had a lean, toned body, with dark curls of chest hair peeking over the top of the white tank top he’d been wearing under his costume, and Stiles swallowed convulsively.

“I get that,” he said. “It’s been crazy at work for me, too. Probably part of why I got so frustrated when they came home with this thing.” He looked more closely at the dog, which was panting happily, its tail thumping against his arm. It lunged for his face with an eager tongue, and he laughed, charmed despite himself.

“Not a dog hater, then,” Derek said, his eyes twinkling.

“No, not at all. I was always the one pestering my dad about it when I was a kid.” He scratched behind the puppy's ears. “I don’t know. Maybe I was being rash. It's just that dogs are a big responsibility, and I don't have a lot of extra time on my hands right now. Plus, we’d be first time dog owners - there’s the training and supplies and everything.”

“It’s an investment.” Derek folded his jacket and set his hat on top of it, his eyebrows furrowing in thought as he worked. “Now, I’m not trying to talk you into anything here. Having a pet isn’t something you should take lightly, and rehoming this little lady wouldn’t be difficult. But my sisters would give you a friends and family discount on their classes. And I - well, I used to train service dogs, before the shelter took up all of my energy. I wouldn’t mind helping out.”

“For a discount, too?” Stiles asked dubiously.

Derek ducked his head, then looked back up at him with new intensity that made Stiles shiver. “No charge. Unless - well, I wouldn’t say no to dinner. Drinks, maybe?”

The puppy yipped sharply as Stiles accidentally squeezed her. “Sorry, sweetie,” he said, stroking her fur, and she gave him a forgiving lick in return. “I, uh - yeah, I. That sounds like a great deal, actually.”

“If you’re interested,” Derek clarified. “It’s not something I offer to every parent who comes through here. Usually I’m just handing out puppies, not my number.”

Stiles laughed. “Santa would have a different reputation around here if that was the case.”

“So it’s a yes?” he asked, looking nervous, like maybe he’d overstepped, or read something into their interaction that hadn’t been there on Stiles’s end.

“It’s a definite yes. And in case you can’t tell, I’m interested. Very interested. Kind of appallingly interested, considering you’re still wearing giant red velvet pants, and I wouldn’t have ever thought _Santa_ was my type.”

“I _was_ trying to change out of them before you barged in,” Derek said. “Seemed presumptuous to keep going while you were yelling at me about being a morally bankrupt under-the-counter pet dealer.”

“I didn’t say _that_ ,” Stiles protested. “I might’ve been thinking it, but you stopped me before I got to the good part of my diatribe.”

“I’m good at reading between the lines,” Derek said.

“Are you.” Stiles set the puppy down and summoned his best seductive stalk, pausing just short of Derek to wink elaborately at him. “How about this line, then, Santa. D’you know what I want under my tree this Christmas?”

“I think I can guess,” Derek breathed, surging off the bench to join him. 

***

“And you complain every time you catch me and Boyd making out back here,” an annoyed voice said from behind Stiles some time later. “Wait a minute, kiddo, your dad’s kinda busy.”

“ _Papa_!” Claudia shrieked, and Stiles broke away from Derek, wiping his mouth and spinning around, trying to pretend that he _hadn’t_ just been kissing Santa Claus, although his still-tingling lips would beg to differ. She’d already made a dive at the floor, though, scooping up the puppy, who’d settled into a cozy nap on top of Derek’s Santa boots. 

“Heyyyy,” Stiles said smoothly. “Sorry, I, uh, lost track of time there.”

“It’s okay, Erica wanted to know all sorts of things about you, but we got bored after a while.” Claudia smooched the puppy gently on her sleepy head. “Does this mean we get to keep her? Since you and Santa Derek made up.”

“Um,” Stiles said. “You uh - you know Derek? And that he’s not actually Santa?”

“Obviously,” she said, rolling her eyes in true Stilinski fashion. “I’m eight years old, papa. Erica told me she and Derek and Isaac and Boyd all work together and get to play with animals _all day long_. She said I could visit if you say yes.” She gave him a shrewd look. “If you let me keep the puppy, you can keep Santa for Christmas,” she negotiated, looking far too pleased with herself. 

“She drives a hard bargain,” Derek said. He’d grabbed a flannel shirt and was in the process of buttoning it over his tank top, hiding his frankly unfair muscles from view. “What do you say?”

Stiles pretended to think about it, and Claudia narrowed her eyes at him, trying to read his expression. “You can keep him _past_ Christmas, even,” she conceded. 

“That sounds like a pretty fair deal to me,” Stiles said. “You in, Santa Derek?”

“Definitely,” Derek said, looking as flushed and happy about it as Stiles felt.

“Oh lord,” Erica said, pulling her elf ears off and tossing them at Derek. “Cora told me this would happen if you two ever met. I can't believe she was right; she's going to be unbearable about it.”

Puppy Stilinski agreed with a loud, sleepy yawn, and Claudia hugged her more tightly.

“Best Christmas ever,” she whispered none-too-quietly, her voice filled with delight.

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed, giving in to the impulse to take Derek’s hand, which brought those infernally beautiful dimples back out. “Yeah, I think you might be right.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've got a [fanworks blog](http://paintedrecs.tumblr.com/) and a [regular blog](http://paintedlandscape.tumblr.com/), and you're welcome to find me on either/both. I tend to ramble more on [twitter](https://twitter.com/paintedrecs).


End file.
